


Tales from Cydonia

by ass_sass_sin_o



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Belldom - Freeform, writersofcydonia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24945640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ass_sass_sin_o/pseuds/ass_sass_sin_o
Summary: An anthology work with pieces written for the prompts given by WritersOfCydonia - it's muse stuffmuse muse muse
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Tales from Cydonia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writersofcydonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writersofcydonia/gifts).



(the film i picked was Gladiator)

\--

If the gods themselves had been watching that moment, even they would have sucked in a breath at the bold actions of the young men on the sand. The emperor, lounging on his throne beneath the cooling shade of his silk gazebo, was silent as he stared down at his gladiators. Atop his head, the golden laurel flashed in the light as he shifted in his seat, the light of which utterly juxtaposing his dark crop of hair.To his side, on a matching throne, his golden haired wife stared wide eyed as her husband rose from his seat to approach the edge of the arena. Where the emperor was all paleness and sharp angles, the gladiators below were muscled and tanned golden from their hours spent fighting under the burning sun, and their crude pieces of leather armour seemed almost savage in comparison to the emperor’s white robes.

By then, a murmur had begun to stir the crowd: no one had dared to challenge an emperor in this way before. The single question of everyone’s lips was  _ what will the emperor do?  _ He raised one hand as an order to silence them, and the effect was immediate - the entire arena, nay, the entire  _ city  _ stood in silence at the request of their ruler. Although he had been well supplied with wine up until this point, he suddenly found his mouth dry and his throat raw. Lowering his hand, the emperor swallowed subtly to quell his nerves, and then he looked at each insolent gladiator in turn.

The taller one - a champion from the northern region, or so he had been told - stared blankly forward, his dark eyes unable to meet those of his ruler. His skin bore the marks of a thousand fights, the scars clearly visible and starkly pale against the warm hue of his skin. Raising one brow, the emperor shifted his gaze to the other soldier, whose blonde hair shone like a golden crown atop his head. To the emperor's surprise, he found a pair of steel grey eyes glaring back at him as he looked down upon the sand - unlike his taller companion, the blonde gladiator had no issue with directly challenging the emperor in this way.  Sucking in a breath, the emperor placed both hands on the railing that protected the royal balcony from the steep drop into the arena proper, and simply smiled down at his two gladiators.

“Finally,” he spoke, his voice betraying his youthfulness to the word, “Finally, someone is brave - or foolish - enough to stand before me with the promise of violence. Tell me: what are your names?”  
In response to the question, the blonde soldier laughed. At any other time, in any other situation, such a laugh would be welcoming and warm, yet with the bloodied sword resting at his feet, and the gaze of an empire bearing down on him, the sound was cold and harsh.  
“Do not waste my time,  _ Emperor Bellamy,  _ you care very little about our names, and I’m sure everyone here would rather you hurry up and don your armour so you may face us in combat,” he scoffed, folding his arms across his chest in silent defiance.

A hushed murmur rippled through the crowds, and the emperor felt a rush of air next to him as his queen rose from her own throne to stand by his side. 

“My love...think about what you are doing, please,” she murmured in his ear, desperate to steer her husband from the dark path he walks.  
Ignoring her, the emperor raised his hand again, and yet again silence befell the arena.   
“You’re right, I don’t care.” he sneered down at the soldiers in the sand, “But it would be nice to know the names of the men I am about to beat in combat.”  
“Bold words from a man lacking real combat experience.” the blonde one scoffed again, and the taller one flickered a glare at him.

Yet again there was the murmur of dissent from the crowd, and yet again the emperor raised his hand to silence them.

“Is it not a fair trade? I humour your request to find me, and in return you humour my request to tell me your names… is that not fair?” the emperor asks, glaring down with all the fury he could muster.   
Even from their low angle, the gladiators can see the malice in his eyes, which burn like blue flames in the glare of the sunshine. A look passes between the duo, a silent agreement to listen to his request, and the tall one steps forth, squinting against the harsh light to meet the eyes of the emperor. 

“My name is Chris Wolstenholme, I come from a kingdom in the far north, once you conquered not too long ago. You ordered your soldiers to burn our crops and our village, and let them case us through the woods in an attempt to finish us off, all while you watched from the safety of your tent atop the hill.” the taller one spoke, loud enough for his words to be heard across the entire arena.

At his words, an uneasy atmosphere fell over the crowds. Of course, it was no secret to them that their empire was built upon the pain of conquered souls, nor were they unaware that their emperor was crowned after a string of bloody battles. Simply knowing that was different to hearing the story of those on the other side of the endless wars, and already the crowds were murmuring their thoughts on the empire under their breaths. The emperor clenched his jaw in response, and shifted his gaze back to the blonde soldier, who grinned up at him with an almost feral smile.

“And my name is Dominic, I was part of a rebel group who stormed your camp while you were campaigning in the west. Despite what your ‘official’ reports suggest, we were not stopped until we reached your tent, where you relied on your bodyguards to protect you from a pair of heathens.” Dominic smiled, relishing in the tale, “You simply stood there like a helpless child while they did your dirty work for you, only once I was the final man standing did you take action - you let your soldiers spare me and send me here, and now I am here to complete the mission I started on that day.”

With that confession, the crowd lets out a gasp. They had heard the story too, but the empire’s messengers had the emperor beating all opponents singlehandedly with no survivors. With the crowd shocked at the revelations, the emperor struggled to maintain his composure - how dare these gladiators embarrass him in this way, how dare these gladiators challenge him so publicly. 

“Fine.” he snapped, his voice sharp and harsh as it cuts through the rumble of the crowds, “Fine, I will give you your battle, and I will be sure to toss a coin or two in your graves afterwards.”

With that, he turned from the balcony and stormed into the network of corridors beyond, his robes billowing behind him. The force of the movement caused his laurel leaf crown to dislodge from his head, and the crack it made as it clattered to the floor was audible through the entire arena. In the silence that followed, the empress knelt down to pick up the crown with her delicate hands. It has separated into two separate pieces, that she gently pushed together in hopes of restoring the beauty of it, yet no matter how hard she pushed, there remained a large, ugly crack down the centre of the golden crown. 


End file.
